Page 81 of The Bride Wore White

“Have you considered a career in real estate sales?”

“I’m serious, Jack.” She raised a hand to keep her hair from blowing into her eyes. “You have to live somewhere. You’ll never find a finer piece of real estate. You are now free to build the house of your dreams.”

“I don’t think I have a house of my dreams.”

“Sure you do. Everyone does. You just haven’t given the problem serious thought.”

“Maybe because I just had my other house—the one I didn’t like—burn down. I’m still focused on that one.”

“Okay, good point,” she said. “You need time. But don’t do anything rash like sell the property until you’ve had a chance to think over the possibilities. Time to focus on the future, Jack.”

“Sure, I’ll get right on that. After I figure out who tried to frame you for murder.”

Prudence let out a long breath. “Okay. I agree we do have other priorities at the moment.”

He surveyed the ruins. “I’ve got a rough outline of what happened here, but I need to fill in a few details.”

“How are you going to do that?”

“Observation,” he said. “No psychic insight involved.”

“Uh-huh.”

He ignored that and started walking around the perimeter of the burned-out house, studying the remains from various angles.

“It looks like some of the pots and pans survived,” Prudence said when they went past what was left of the kitchen. “I think you could scrub off the soot.”

“I don’t need cookware that badly,” Jack said.

They continued on around to what had once been the living room.

“I don’t see anything there that is worth salvaging,” Prudence said.

“No loss,” Jack said.

He kept walking but stopped when they got to what had been a window in the library.

Prudence winced. “Unfortunately, books burn much too easily.”

He contemplated the ruins of the library-office. The desk was a charred hulk. There was a large lump of blackened metal sitting on what was left of his typing table.

“I’ll be needing a new typewriter,” he said.

“Definitely.” Prudence peered more closely through the empty window at the ash-covered items scattered on the floor. “Oh, look. I think your lovely paperweight survived.”

He glanced at the rounded object covered in soot and ash on the floor. “I won’t be needing a paperweight for a while.”

“It’s a very nice piece of crystal.” She started to lean forward. “I might be able to reach it.”

“Stop.” He wrapped a hand around her upper arm and hauled her upright. “You can’t reach it, and you’re not going to walk into those ashes. The floorboards might give way. There could still be hot spots.”

“You’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

He heard the chimes that told him he was missing something important. “You like crystal, don’t you?”

“Yes.” She hesitated and then made a small dismissive motion with one hand. “That paperweight is a rather nice piece, but it’s not worth the risk of trying to retrieve it.”

She could not reach it, but he might be able to if he had a tool.

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